


Wrong

by unmeiboy



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Drugged Sex, Drugs, Dubious Consent, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 19:13:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9004681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unmeiboy/pseuds/unmeiboy
Summary: For nicana. Here, have some dub-con for Christmas. Enjoy. :D Merry Christmas ♥





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nicana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicana/gifts).



> For nicana. Here, have some dub-con for Christmas. Enjoy. :D Merry Christmas ♥

Slipping that powder into Kitayama's beer is wrong. It's wrong, but Nikaido still does it, slips it into what will be Kitayama's last glass for the night. When he starts stumbling Nikaido grabs him by the shoulder, has him lean against himself and blames Kitayama for drinking too much. Ignores Kitayama's mumbling about how he doesn't feel drunk, that it's something else. Instead he gets them a taxi, explains to the taxi driver that his friend has just had too much alcohol tonight, and then he gives him the address to Kitayama's apartment. He fishes the keys out of Kitayama's jeans pocket, and he has a little bit of a hard time to get both of them into the apartment without Kitayama falling over.  
“You're heavier than one would expect,” he mutters as he has Kitayama lean against a wall.  
“Gym,” Kitayama mumbles back, leans forward to take off his shoes and Nikaido barely catches him before he falls onto his face. “Nika, I feel numb...”  
“Let's get you to bed.” Nikaido holds on to Kitayama's shoulders as he all but drags him to his bedroom; he had imagined this would be easier than it turns out to be.

It's not like Kitayama is entirely out of it, but he falls heavily onto his back when Nikaido gets him on the bed.  
“You feel hot,” Nikaido lies, gets Kitayama out of his shirt with little help from him. It looks hot, but he won't admit that to Kitayama. His skin does feel hotter than normal when Nikaido sets his hand against Kitayama's abs, splays his fingers to feel his smooth, tan skin; when he looks up he sees Kitayama looking up at him with what could be confusion in his glazed eyes.  
“Nika?” If it wasn't his nickname Nikaido would only recognize what he says as a slurred word with a questioning tone to it.  
“Shh.” He lets his hand slide down to Kitayama's pants, silences the voice in his head saying he shouldn't do this. He has come this far, there's no turning back now and he might as well make the most of it. Slowly, carefully, he rubs Kitayama through the crotch of his pants, listens to his hitched breaths, feels himself twitch in his pants at the low sounds he makes.

Getting Kitayama's pants off turns out to be even more of a challenge than his shirt, but he manages, and Kitayama is still just looking at him like he's wondering exactly what is going on. His eyes flutter shut when Nikaido wraps a hand around his cock, his legs shift as if in an attempt to move towards where Nikaido is working him up to an erection.  
“Lube,” he mumbles to himself, reaches into his back pocket with the hand he's not touching Kitayama with, is relieved to find that he did remember to move the small tube from his jacket to his pants. Even without directly looking at Kitayama he sees that he heard the word, it looks like he might actually hear anything Nikaido says. The thought spurs him on. “You look so good, Mitsu,” he purrs as he leans over him, presses a kiss against his neck before he speaks against the shell of his ear. “I really want to fuck you.” The answer is another set of slurred words and he chooses not to try to figure them out in favor of getting the tube open and that thick transparent liquid onto his fingers.

Kitayama's breathing still changes with Nikaido's movements, but that's about as much reaction as he shows; his twitching cock being the exception. He looks at Nikaido whenever his eyelids aren't falling down, like he's sleepy or heavily drunk; his hands clenching the sheets every now and then, and his legs tense to produce a motion towards Nikaido. His hole doesn't give much resistance after Nikaido has pressed the first finger inside, but he doesn't rush, quite enjoys the sight on Kitayama on his back taking his fingers, likes the way his cock jumps when his fingertips brush against his prostate. In, out, in, out, Kitayama's muscles contract around Nikaido's fingers only to loosen up again, tight and hot and Nikaido can't wait, wants to be inside him already but also enjoys it too much to hurry. He's not sure for how long he will be affected by the drugs, but he knows he'll never be out cold, that he might not remember but will be aware what's happening around him. He should at least get going before he starts coming back to full consciousness; tying him up is an option and while the thought is so arousing that Nikaido has to open his pants to relieve himself of the pressure against his erection, he opts to not to it. Just the press of his own hand makes him groan, and he catches Kitayama belatedly searching for the direction of the sound.  
“Here, Mitsu,” he says, voice low, “I'm here.”

Kitayama attempts to lift his head, but he doesn't have full control of his muscles and only manages for a couple seconds before it falls back down on his mattress.  
“It'll feel so good,” Nikaido says as he withdraws his fingers, shoves his pants down and gets some lubrication on his own erection, “I promise.”

“Mm.” The sound Kitayama makes now sounds like approval and it makes Nikaido pause, makes him question what he just heard, but the drug was supposed to give the same result as too much of alcohol would and it's not entirely impossible that he's aware enough to enjoy it. For some reason that makes Nikaido feel worse, enough that he chooses to ignore everything and just push the head of his cock past Kitayama's entrance. He can't hold back his own moan when he does, keeps pushing when he finds that he is relaxed enough to take more without putting a strain on his body. As he starts moving he curses to himself, sets himself lower over Kitayama as he tries to go slow; to his surprise Kitayama reaches for his arm, clamps a hand around it with a grip stronger than he thought possible. Maybe it's instinct that makes it so strong, now that he has something to hold on to, but then he looks at his face and although glassy and drunken-looking, there's no negative look to his eyes. Almost like he's drunk and horny, except he's not drunk, he's high on what Nikaido had slipped him.

He's ashamed to realize that it's the situation that makes the pleasure so intense, that he likes to have Kitayama beneath him like this, unable to defend himself. That he's still hard, that he moans with every thrust, neither of it speaks for him not wanting it, but Nikaido supposes it could just be his body reacting to the stimulation and not his mind being involved. Either way, it's hot, hotter than he'd like to admit in any way except fucking him harder, and that's exactly what he does. He's close to his orgasm when he notices another movement, one that isn't his own.

Kitayama is moving back towards him, shapely thighs and abs tensing as he does, like really he is enjoying it.  
“Dirty slut.” Nikaido hears the words tumble out of his own mouth before he can stop them, ends up hoping Kitayama just won't recall that the day after. Drugged up and wanton, though, the words do fit and Nikaido isn't opposed to it. In fact it turns him on further, the heat is burning around his cock and his pulse is loud in his ears, a rushing feeling low in his stomach and he pushes himself over the edge with a few last, strong thrusts.

“Nika...” It's against slurred, but he catches it this time too. “Please...”

It takes Nikaido a couple seconds to realize Kitayama's soft pushing on his hand means he wants to get off too, but once he gets it he's on it immediately. His right hand pumps Kitayama's cock and his other hand has two fingers knuckles deep inside him; he can see his muscles tensing and releasing, feels him clench around the fingers and hears his breath hitching. Thick white spills onto Kitayama's skin and Nikaido's hand, he chooses to wipe it off on his abdomen, listens to the calming breaths while he buckles his pants back up.

It's with a tang of regret that he helps Kitayama under the covers, tucks him in; the messy hair and the slightly lost look on his face is still strangely attractive and it's still wrong. But then Kitayama mumbles something, this time actual words, although not very clear. He never finishes the sentence, but it does make Nikaido feel a strange kind of relief.

“Didn't have to...”


End file.
